


Dish n°1: Colors

by Zwiezraczek



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, First Love, Mila is just a teenager in love with her firend's father, Misunderstanding, Poor Alexander, Yakov thinks she's his son girlfirend, impossible love, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwiezraczek/pseuds/Zwiezraczek
Summary: Yakov Felstman has a son, his son has a band, and in the band there is Mila.





	Dish n°1: Colors

**Author's Note:**

> [For the "Yoi prompt (writing) recipes](yoipromptrecipes.tumblr.com)
> 
> Well, an idea popped out from my head and I needed to share this with you; so I'm the first to do the Yaoi prompt (writing) recipes and as the iniciator if this idea I hope that you will enjoy it!
> 
> Ingredients: Mila&Yakov, singer/band AU, quote "What about taking a coffee?", misunderstanding

She was his son's friend, coming often to the house with this tremendous smile; Alexander always said that she was a gorgeous guitarist, that her fingers slipped with agility on the strings of her instrument while her head slowly lulled, with her fire locks falling on her pointy nose. Alexander really liked her, and she seemed to like him too, so Yakov couldn't stop himself from thinking that she would became, one day, his daughter-in-law, and that the little Feltsman's would look splendiferous with her eyes looking like a sky in the summer, shining like constellations -plus she had a Russian name, he couldn't be happier!.

Everyday, Sasha after coming back from school vocalised what she did on that day, how her locks smelt when some wind spread her hair, it smelt like lilac, like the fresher flower he had never seen or touched, how she looked in that oversized pale pull-over that hid her body, her laughter sounded like chirrups of fascinating crimson birds flying in the sky. Yakov felt proud, his son have chosen a graceful girl that looked to be in love with him too; so he never hesitated to invite her for dinner, and she never declined the offer, always coming dressed-up with a divine dress, white as snow contrasting with her bloody lips and flames-like hair; she smiled politely, she always said that what he cooked smelt divine, that everything was delicious and worth coming again and again. He began to treat her like family, talking with her about everything and nothing when Sasha slunk off for a second, he always told her that she looked good today and she answered with a bright smile, when they dined he always made sure that she had nothing on her face, showing her where she had to clean her face. She became the perfect daughter-in-law.

Mila loved coming to the Feltsman's house, because he was there. Playing in the garage, she always managed to glance at him, for no longer than a second when he passed by with a cup of coffee and she knew how much he loved coffee. She made herself beautiful every time she had o put her foot inside their house; perfuming herself witch violets, making her locks bounce at every movement, kindly saying “Hello Mr Feltsman” when she saw him. Butterflies in her stomach, dizzy in her head, she knew that Sasha loved her yet she never felt able to love him back; she used him, that cruel creature, for her own purposes, playing innocently the guitar while he came around seeming like nothing ever happened, as if her flushing cheeks remained invisible. It was _the_ moment, she could feel it as she rose her head to look at him; her friends mocked her when she confessed them her love for Sasha's father -why she couldn't fall for Sasha, his pretty face and his radiant blue hair as every girl in high school?-, he had a polished skull and some cloudy hair began to cover his shoulders, canyons adorned his face at every angle, he looked strong and muscular like a prince charming -or even better, a king!-; she knew he was ripped at every edge, and that made him a masterpiece. She had to try at least, she had to do it.

\- Mr Feltsman, she dared to ask, what about taking a coffee, her face flushed delicately, as she put her guitar on the ground.

\- You mean with Sasha and you, he added looking at her, having still his cup steaming.

\- Just you and me, she continued. Of course, if it is a problem...

\- No, he interrupted her as the corners of his mouth turned up. Will tomorrow be fine?

\- At 3 o'clock, at _Babushka_.

\- My favourite café, he answered before dipping his lips in the beverage. Fine.

She chose the bar on purpose, she knew he loved their black coffee.

 

She put her favourite dress on, the one with the ruby dots on the angelic material; she looked like these pin-up girls in the fifties with her curled short hair all over her face, with a little bit too much blush for her porcelain skin, and these lips, looking like the forbidden fruit. She saw him the minute he entered in the _café_ ; she waved at him, timidly, and he waved back while coming nearer and nearer, suddenly at _Babushka_ they seemed to put all their heaters on as Mila was ventilating herself with the menu.

\- I'm glad you came, she finally said while he sat in front of her, wearing a red rose at his buttonhole.

\- I'm glad that you invited me, that's a pleasure to discuss with you.

Mila smiled bright, while he ordered two coffees for them, and a piece of Russian cheesecake for her. She watched him while he talked about Sasha, or whatever he was talking about, she had her cheek in her hand, listening carefully the sound of his voice; a voice deeper than the universe, hoarse and so appealing.

\- I need to stop talking, or I'll never give you a chance to say what you wanted to say to me; he looked at her, sipping his coffee from the porcelain and Mila panicked.

She played with her dress under the table, creasing it while she looked down on her fingers feeling the oceanic eyes looking at her; she could touch him, she could kiss him. And that was what she did, putting her bloody lips on his, a stupid teenager kissing a man, a real one, not a man like Sasha was: he was something better. But when she sat down, his eyes didn't shine, she could see a kind of dreadful fear running on his face.

\- I always thought you and Sasha... Were dating, he succeeded to say, wiping away the lipstick on his lips.

\- I love you Mr Feltsman, and that's all I had to say; she stood up, eyes wet as the ocean, tears dropping softly on her shoes. I'm sorry for disappointing you.

And she left, he never saw her again.

 


End file.
